


Mutual Toys

by Amydyne



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, High Chaos (Dishonored), Not Dishonored 2 Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amydyne/pseuds/Amydyne
Summary: When an intruder strode idly in the Entity's playground, everything screamed.





	Mutual Toys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExasperantMadman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExasperantMadman/gifts).



The Entity's realm is one of fog and uncertainty. All is continually moving and consistently still at once. There are rushes of time, in which the moon passes through the mist overhead in a few blinks; retreats in pace, with birds flapping their lead-like wings towards the unclear above. There are conventional moments as well, known to humans as "the inevitable passing of time". The Entity does not internalize these scattered patterns of time, as they come from itself and return unknowingly. But the stretch of seconds can be controlled at whim, just like everything in its realm.

The Entity had brought numerous individuals into its game, through carefully observing, triggering and selecting the best participants. The process was constructed in a linear manner, with no room for error. So long as the rules were abided by, the trials would never fail. Firstly, the Entity would enter a state of awareness, seeking the necessary players from the mundane world. They would be chosen from a myriad of upbringings, from various points in history, often under the Entity's attention all their lives, so long as their potential never wavered. Secondly, the Entity would await for the most opportune moment to interfere. And when it did, it was often through barely-heard whispers, taken away by the wind; through messages passed behind closed eyelids, through words scribbled on decaying walls and paved at the feet of its playthings. The Entity was always eager for the culminating point in its victims' lives. It was the greatest moment, when it would pluck their struggling souls from the world they knew and break them, reshape them and ultimately bring them into its game.

These trials occurred faithfully on the Entity's vast yet finite territory. Some areas were constructed to resemble familiar places from the mortal world, but where the Entity primarily resided, the surroundings took the shape of a dense, impenetrable forest. Bound by fog and intent, there was no possibility for any of the participants to escape from its grasp. Essentially, nothing and no being would be able to get in either. Which is why, when an intruder strode idly in the Entity's playground, everything screamed. The world began violently shaking, snapping and shattering; the fauna and flora was losing its essence, its enigma, its energy. The structures around the realm were collapsing, crumbling into pieces, and ultimately ceasing to exist. And the stranger was advancing on, weaving chaos, as the fog was parting and making way.

Even so, the Entity had always been and was currently in control of its territory. Conjuring the necessary intention, it became aware of all it had built: from each tiny piece of land, stone and wood to every living being trapped in its realm. And as the element of surprise faded, the world began falling back into its initial order. It was not a strenuous task, concluded the Entity, but it was highly troublesome when an outsider was roaming around its territory.

"How fascinating," said the figure "I am addressed here by the same name as the masses from where I originate."

This outsider had the form of young man with black, disheveled hair and even darker eyes. Clad in black, he was strolling casually through the dense mist as he was approaching the center of the woods. Hands clasped behind his back, he wore a sly smile on his face, eyes gazing upon everything. He was not one that belonged to the usual world from which the Entity drew its victims from. No, it knew by just being in his presence that The Outsider originated from a very distant place.

"I have indeed traveled ways, from places inconceivable to you," the man responded, as if perceiving the Entity's speculations. "I reached your territory to form an arrangement, if I might be heard out."

The closer the stranger got to the midpoint, the more the Entity could distinguish hazy shapes forming in his wake: enormous sea creatures, whales, were assembling out of fog, gliding above and through the unclear sky, encircling The Outsider whom was now standing just a few paces away from the Entity's core and itself. With that, an abrupt understanding dawned upon the Entity, for this deity was one linked to the mighty deep-sea giants, and he was willing to be heard.

"We are both of same kin, yet so estranged from one another," The Outsider frowned as he slowly folded his arms. "Nevertheless, there are a few inconsistencies here and there; there is a preference for keeping away from mortals and observing from afar, all the while residing in our respective frigid realms," the God tilted his head and paused, as another sleek smile began spreading on his face, "mine more than yours."

That was not the Entity's way. While it had a preference of watching its targets obsessively, the style it exercised consisted in setting up the potential players in a way that would make them interesting and only then snatching and bringing them into its realm. Even so, the Entity was curious about the other deity's world, and whether it could throw its net in there as well.

"I do not meddle in mortals' affairs as much," The Outsider inhaled sharply, "that's where the difference lies in, between us." The deity motioned to the woods with his outstretched hand, pale as the mist surrounding him. "This playing field is where your game occurs, a controlled and predictable imitation of the world you hunt in," he continued just as the Entity commanded the fog to densify, to further hide its precious turf. "I, on the contrary, intervene quite minimally in the lives of those I find fascinating, not because my chosen ones are dull, but because they need little incentive to become delightful," ended the Outsider, a glint of mischief playing in his coal-black eyes.

And just by hearing his words, the Entity was engrossed by this potential new world and desired to see it.

As on cue, new images started forming out of smoke behind the God of whales: a doomed city plagued by rodents and whale oil, ridden with gangs and assassins. A lifeless empress, taken from the world before she could realize any of her ambitions. A masked vigilante, combing through the city for revenge, leaving floods of blood behind. The young successor, once dreaming of sitting on her mother's throne above everything and everyone, yet plunging to her death into icy waters.

"Truly fascinating, isn't it?" said the man as he watched the events of its home unfold.

The Outsider chuckled, turning around and gesturing to something down the path he emerged from. "I have come for this purpose, and I am sure we can come to an agreement." And with his back to the Entity, he spoke softly: "these were quite dear to me, it would be a pity to let them go. Which is why I am placing them at your disposal, so long as they are included in this silly game of yours."

The Entity couldn't agree more.

-

Claudette had taken part in thousands of trials, each more gruesome than the previous. She was one of the few people who had been there from the "beginning", whenever that was. She had seen countless other players, inside the trial and out as well, but she couldn't recall all of them. People steadily came and went. Sometimes they would meet the new additions at the campfire, outside the trial, where they could clearly explain the "rules" of the game before it started. Sometimes these new players were never seen again after their first trial.

Other times, she would find the rookies already on the killer's ground, confused and not knowing what to do. Those were the toughest situations. Claudette wanted to help, she usually did try, but more often than not it caused her to be caught due to beginner mistakes. It was heartbreaking to abandon them in their turmoil, but the botanist hoped that if they escaped the trial, she could sincerely apologize over at the campfire.

But in the current situation she was in, Claudette just couldn't bring herself to bail out on the new girl. She was young, far younger than all the players she had met. Maybe around 10 or 11 years old, the child was hiding in the shadow of some crates, eyes scanning the open area in front of her.

For a while, Claudette kept her distance but carefully followed the girl with her eyes as the latter would move around in short sprints, dashing under windows and behind corners, making herself unseen. Hiding made her almost impossible to spot, and Claudette nearly lost sight of her a couple of times. This tactic fit her quite well as she was both short in stature and surprisingly agile. From her vantage point on the hill, it looked like the rookie was playing a broad game of hide and seek.

Her thoughts and attention were interrupted by a shuffle of grass. Nea was slowly crouching up the hill towards her. Even if it was for a short moment, Claudette felt relieved to see a familiar face. The other woman stopped before her and gestured with her right hand towards her neck: a voiceless sign they made up at the campfire to signify that one had spotted the killer. With her left hand she covered her face, imitating a mask. They had special signs for all the killers wearing masks, yet Claudette didn't recognize that one. That was odd.

In turn, Claudette pointed at the small figure wearing a white, muddy dress, tucked behind a collapsed wall. Nea's eyes widened, for she also couldn't believe how young the new survivor was. And at that same time, both women realized one thing: new survivors brought new killers, and vice-versa. Usually they had some sort of connection with each other, and if it meant escaping this completely unpredictable trial, Claudette was determined to approach and obtain some useful information from the new player.

Climbing down the hill, the older woman managed to slowly reach the young figure. Since she was a child, Claudette tried her best to muster up a smile. It was strained, for she hadn't smiled in so long. Gently coming to crouch next to the child, she motioned for her to keep quiet in hopes she wouldn’t scream and get them killed. Surprisingly, the young girl saw her coming and was still, eyes calm and focused on the botanist and her surroundings. She even spotted Nea jumping off the mound and running towards the building in the center. Was this not her first trial? And more importantly, why was Nea running again? There was no one chasing her, and no heartbeat was ringing in her ears. Did Claudette misunderstand Nea’s sign for The Shape being the killer?

Before that thought faded away, the young girl pulled onto her sleeve and pointed at the ground. It was funny, at first Claudette thought there was a patch of snow in front of them. But it had never snowed there before and snow usually didn't move so noisily and, well, horizontally. And then she looked more carefully and her heart almost stopped. They were rats. Hundreds of white rats, scattered through the stubby grass, moving wildly around the clearing. And Claudette was fearful, for whomever the new killer was, it wasn't someone to toy with.

They had to run. They had to put as much distance between them and the rodents. As much as Claudette used to love animals, seeing a swarm of rats in a trial filled her with dread. The girls started moving away, in a slow crouch and as silently as possible, hugging the walls of the trial. It was the safest way, Claudette concluded, for she did not know anything about her new teammate and whether the girl was able to keep up with her sprinting.

But as soon as they started moving away, both girls were backed into the wall by the nasty swarm. Claudette didn't even notice when the animals started crawling over to them. Blood-red eyes and sharp teeth out, the rodents appeared to...not be attacking at all. They were just enclosing them in a semi-circle, making escape impossible. Instinct took over nevertheless, and the botanist slowly pushed the child behind her, offering as much protection as she could. She had to come up with something to get them both free and behind cover.

A piercing gunshot scrambled the group of rats and Claudette’s thoughts as well. Her ears were ringing and her vision was unusually blurry, for a moment thinking she had dropped her glasses. The bullet was still hissing in her abdomen when the botanist regained her composure. Claudette had taken part in thousands of trials, indeed; she had been stabbed, dragged and placed on rusty metal hooks but that was the first time she had been shot. It was surreal. The blood was spreading over her stained shirt as the intense pain hit her senses. The girl behind her immediately came to her side and placed her trembling palms over the bleeding wound. Horror was written all over her young face, tiny tears forming in the corner of her wide eyes. Claudette did not know then, but the young girl was reliving one of her worst nightmares.

The figure that emerged from around the obscuring trees was a veritable nightmare. It was dressed all in dark colors, with a hood covering its head, carrying a definitely loaded gun. The mask was what unsettled Claudette the most. It appeared to be mechanical, with mismatched eyes sculpted around damaged wires, split in two yet somehow not falling off. The botanist wondered if it could see at all.

But it surely could, as the killer raised its weapon one more time and pointed at her. Her heart was beating incessantly, urging her to get up and away from the firing line. Before she could react though, the younger girl jumped in front of her, mirroring their earlier position. She was willing to act as a shield, and Claudette couldn't decide if she was touched or outright terrified for the child's safety.

It was a quick, imperceptible moment but the older woman caught it. The killer hesitated to pull the trigger. Was it because of the child? Claudette decided she did not need to know. A moment later, Nea, her fierce and sweet Nea ran up to the killer and assaulted it with her flashlight, successfully creating a distraction. It bought the cornered girls enough time to scuttle away from the wall. Painful as it was, Claudette stood and grabbed the young girl's arm and made for the building.

Not all team plays end well unfortunately. Before she could duck behind a tree, the killer turned around and pulled the trigger, catching the botanist in the thigh. Claudette not-so-graciously fell forward, moaning in pain.

From there on, everything took a familiar course: she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, sensed the killer picking and swinging her over its shoulder, then moving to seek a metal pole, somewhere. To make matters worse, Claudette felt the descent. She was then being hooked in the basement, the sole place she detested the most. The pain was familiar, she had experienced it countless times, yet she still couldn't get used to it. There was something about being stabbed by a hook in an incredibly damp underground that she couldn't get accustomed to.

As she was dangling from the ceiling, she glanced around the unchanged basement. Light behind wooden walls, check. A chest lay unopened in a corner, check. Two lockers facing across from the base of the stairs, check. Her gaze followed the steps when she noticed something moving on the stairs leading above. There, white spots were gathered in an amalgamation, effectively blocking all access to and out of the basement.

And Claudette laughed, a dry chuckle shadowed by a heavy heart. She was not getting out of there, not that time at least. Yielding, she did not bother to struggle when the Entity's claws came for her. Her last thought was of the child, hoping that she had not suffered too much.

-

"My name is Emily, thank you for saving me Ms. Claudette."

They were out of the trial, next to the campfire, freely able to speak with one another. The young girl - Emily – had made it out safe and sound due to Claudette's sacrifice and some directions from Nea.

"You can just call me Claudette," she extended her hand. "I am relieved that you made it out."

Emily accepted her hand. Hers was so small and delicate, fitting for a girl her age. Which led Claudette to wonder if this was why the killer had hesitated in shooting. She asked Emily if she knew the figure, if she had seen him somewhere before.

"Yes, I do know him very well," her eyes turned to the ground. "He was my lord protector, my best friend and my dearest teacher." When Emily pitifully looked up, Claudette realized that maybe the young girl had not yet made peace with the current situation. She wanted to help, she was definitely going to support her. But the botanist was not sure how much she would be able to offer, following the young girl's words:

"He is my father," was Emily's last, almost inaudible reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
